


Sky Takes Rain

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Series: Almost More Storm Than Sky [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Author loves to chat in the Comments, Dubious Consent, Fucked-Up Relationship Dynamics, Loyalty, M/M, Submission, Unconventional Uses for Dying Will Flames
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: Explicitly Xanxus/Squalo scene(s) from the  "Almost More Storm than Sky" continuity, but can also be read as stand alone smut:Chapter 1: Paralleling the events in "Cloudy Rain", Squalo kneels and offers Xanxus his Sword and the Varia. Xanxus accepts, and there is dubiously consensual sex (Squalo walks into the situation knowing what is likely to happen, and consent is implied.)Chapter 2: Set between the events of "One More" and "Cavallone Sky". A rebonding, with a little more pre-thought from Squalo. Sparring and sex, and an implied relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

Squalo kneels, offering his sword to the youngest of the Vongola boys, the one with the strength he wants to follow so much he can taste it, and waits; Xanxus' whimsies are notorious, and he half expects to find his sword snatched up and for the next sensation to be sharp, bloody and _final_.

Instead Xanxus laughs and spits something in a dialect that Squalo can't quite follow. 

And he still kneels, eyes shut, waiting.

When it comes, the blow is blunt against his temple, sending him sprawling across the floor of the courtyard and his sword skittering across the flagstones, but he welcomes it - and the darkness it brings with it.

He wakes, face down, to a spike of pain shooting up his spine, a dull throbbing headache, red-orange flames burning around the hand occupying his field of vision, and his Will dancing beneath his skin. The flagstones are cold and smooth against his left cheek, his chest and his cock, contrasting almost painfully with the blazing heat pinning him to them. 

The weight pinning him shifts, driving another spike of pain up his spine as what can only be Xanxus' cock is forced the rest of the way into his body, and he tenses reflexively around it's bulk, trying to deny this is happening. The okama _warned_ him. Warned him that a Sky like Xanxus would take and take and take till he had nothing left, and then consume him whole. Warned him that this was a possibility, handed him lube, told him what to do before kneeling to the teen, just in case, but what he’d done hadn’t been _enough_.

The voice that whispers in his ear, demanding that he relax his damn muscles is cold, even though Squalo can see - can _feel_ the Flames crackling, waiting to consume him if he falters - if he denies the other what he's seeking. His own Flames rise in answer to the threat, and Xanxus’ surge in response. He’s relieved when they submit rather than flare further, accepting on an instinctual level his intellectual decision this was his chosen Sky, the one for whom he _wants_ to be the Requiem Rain, the _only_ one he has an desire to serve.

He can’t do anything about the lack of lubrication, but he is capable of using his Flames internally to ease the muscles surrounding the intrusion into his body. He can also feel his Flames seep into his Sky through the skin contact between them, calming and focusing the fury raging at the core of Xanxus. He shivered at the thought of the fact that what he was to lend his Sky was _focus_ for his rage. Xanxus’ rage focused - that was a terrifying and arousing thought, that makes his own cock swell.

The pain eases as their Flames mesh with each other, and he goes slack, allowing Xanxus to take what he needs from him. The other teen responds by pulling him up into something closer to a kneeling position, weight supported by his forearms; the positional shift changes the angle of the strokes makes a brilliant white heat bloom in his gut, and curl around the base of his spine, and he can already tell that despite what he _thought_ his orientation had been, he wanted more of this.

Wanted the fire, wanted the rapidly blooming pleasure and the threat at his back. Wanted to feel his Sky to pin him down and force him to accept his cock. Wanted the stretch and the burn and the weight of Xanxus’ Flames bearing down on him. Wanted _this_. Wanted the hand that now wrapped around his cock, with its calluses - different calluses from the ones on his own hands - that was stroking him roughly, demanding that he surrender even his pleasure to his Sky.

He _shrieks_ when a particularly vicious thrust flips him over the edge he's been balancing on, into the same abyss he occupies when he fights for his life, where the pain doesn't matter anywhere near as much as the pleasure does. And it thrills him. He's spent so much time chasing this state, that -

 _Oh._

He understands. Knows that this is the reward for his surrender. For the fact that he has given up everything, up to, and including the time and nature of his death to his Sky. And with that realisation, the tight knot of pain and pleasure curled at the base of his spine ruptures and tears him apart, until all he’s aware of is the cock that his core muscles are clamping down on, and the hand on his own cock and his Sky. He's _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xanxus is 16 to Squalo's 14 here.


	2. Chapter 2

He’d even asked Lussuria if the Boss was fit for this, and that had been one hell of a conversation to have. It had to be done, but he could now sate the craving that had been pushed to the point of intolerable by his Sky’s Flames wrapping around him again.

He could kneel and offer his Sky his Sword again.

It’s a little different this time, though. He knows what he’s letting himself in far better. Is better prepared for his Sky, has wanted this for the past eight years, had wanked himself raw and buggered himself senseless trying to scratch this itch that he’s been unable to scratch.

It meant that he knows how to prepare himself, the advantage of cleaning himself and has suitable lube, knows how to apply it and had. Had knelt on the floor of his own bathroom and worked himself open on his fingers, not wanting to risk a tear, not when he could do this more than once over the next few days.

His Sky had been frozen, and whilst the scars were new, he’d not aged. As far as Lussuria could tell, he’d not aged at  _all_. Was still the sixteen year old that Nono had frozen, with a sixteen year old’s refractory period. He  _remembered_  being that age! And Bel had reached it recently. Bel, who was currently a walking talking hormone, and who had no compunction at all about watching - and wanking to - porn in the public parts of the Compound if that was where the urge struck him. He was not ashamed to want to take advantage.

He'd been tempted to fuck himself on his own fingers, to bring himself off at least once, but.

But fingers - and toys, no matter how life like - were no substitute for his Sky's Flames and he  _wanted_. Wanted so badly at this point that he'd do almost anything.

Wanted skin and Flames and the reassurance that despite giving up the Rain Guardian position to their little CEDEF rescuee he was still his Sky's  _focus_. Still his senior Guardian, the only one that could - and would - take everything Xanxus dished out, and enjoy it all.

After one final applicator full of lube he rose from his kneeling position and eased himself back into his leathers and stalked out of his suite to hunt down his Sky.

He runs him in to earth in one of the training rooms, working through his katas; hands glowing with his Flames as he tests out his body as it is now. For all that Xanxus hasn’t grown, he went into the ice injured by the Old Bastard, and came out with something like full body frostbite; the scarring was quite obviously causing him problems, though that would fade.

It wasn’t hard to goad him into sparring. The ice had done nothing for his baseline rage, and the CEDEF related issues that were coming to light were just amplifying it. And sparring with Xanxus was  _fun_. Especially as the Boss hadn’t caught up with all the tricks he’d learned since the Cradle Incident yet.

Their spar still ends, half a breathless hour later with him kneeling at Xanxus’s feet, an X-gun pressed to his forehead. The gun is warm where it rest, right between his eyes, and if Xanxus chose -

But the Boss wouldn’t. Not yet. Not with his cock obviously pressing against the snug leather he was wearing, not when Squalo - moving slowly and signalling every motion - offered his Sword again in direct mimicry of his actions of nine years earlier.

Except he was nine years older, had reached his full growth where Xanxus hasn't, and his hair, the physical manifestation of his oath to make his Sky Decimo shrouded him like a cloak. Was he still what his Sky wanted?

The X-gun pressed to his forehead was withdrawn, and he could hear it being returned to its holster.

"Put the sword away, trash." Head still bowed, Squalo dropped the Sword so that it's Mist binding would sheathe it where only he could retrieve it. That was promising.

Wrath Flames, under exquisite control that made him wonder about how aware or otherwise his Sky had been in the ice, washed over him, and when they had faded, his clothes were gone. His cock jutted out proudly, flushed with adrenaline and Sky Flame fed arousal and he could feel red eyes observing him keenly. The sound of buttons popping was loud in the quiet room.

"Suck, trash." That was a demand he could get behind. Could happily wrap his lips around the head of his Sky's cock - it wasn’t what he  _wanted_ , but it was a good prelude. It suggested that this might end up being about pleasure, rather than just his Sky reclaiming his dominance over him.

He sucked at it messily. Worshipping at Xanxus's cock sloppily, allowing rivulets of his saliva to run down it, aware that whilst he had worked himself open properly, it had been more than half an hour ago and he wasn’t expecting him to be gentle. He’s right; callused, scarred fingers thread into his hair and take over control of his motions. He chokes on the cock that’s thrust - insistently - down his throat, but takes it and takes it and takes it, drunk on the Sky Flames that surround them both now.

He’s just trying to summon his Rain Flames up to soothe the growing ache in his jaw when he feels the pulse and tastes the bitterness at the back of his tongue that forewarned of his Sky coming. He swallows, convulsively, and keeps working it until he’s pulled, roughly, off it.

The movement ends up with him pinned to the floor of the training room, his Sky’s hand knotted in his hair, controlling the way he moved. Xanxus is still fully dressed, other than his exposed cock and the feel of the leather against his skin just excites him. A pair of fingers, dry, spear into him, and find his muscles relaxed and the passage slick with lubrication.

“This is what you came here looking for, shark-trash?” Even with the lubrication, even with the stretching he’d done, the single, hard stroke that drove Xanxus’ cock into him, clear to the root, stole his breath away. It wasn’t just the physical sensation, but also the way his Sky’s Flame speared into him, and wrapped themselves back around him. The pace he set was beyond punishing, but with their Flames urging them on, it was far close to pleasure than pain.

He didn’t answer the question, only pushed back into each thrust until he couldn’t hold the position any longer, and still Xanxus drove into him, still chasing his own pleasure. It was  _exactly_  what he’d been craving. The kind of exhausted, overwhelmed satiation that left muscles limp and one knowing that they’d pushed past their limits. He went slack and let his Sky continue to take and take and take, even though it was now beginning to hurt.

He was both relieved and more than a little disappointed - when he felt the wet heat of Xanxus’s pleasure bloom, and the solid, burning presence of his Sky pulled away from his body. He made a mew of protest, and tried to find enough coordination to move, but he was -

“My bed tonight, trash.”

The door to the training room slammed shut, and Squalo was left, sprawled on the floor naked and obviously well-used, and debating how to get himself back to his own rooms as his bastard of a Sky had immolated his training uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xanxus is _biologically_ 16 to Squalo's 22 here.

**Author's Note:**

> [Somewhere to leave Reborn! ideas](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Aoife_Prompt_Collection_KHR)


End file.
